Guards of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk and Fisher (Hawk & Fisher)

by Simon R. Green

  “The child,” he said thickly. “What have they done with her?”

  “A doctor’s looking at her now,” said Fisher. “And as soon as you’ve finished that soup we’re going to get one to take a look at you, as well. God, you’re a mess, Hawk. Was it bad down there?”

  “Bad enough.”

  Eventually he got to his feet again, and Fisher found him a doctor who could work the right healing spells. The wounds closed up easily enough, but there was nothing the doctor could do for physical and emotional exhaustion. Hawk and Fisher looked around them. The dead and injured had been laid out in neat rows on the snow, the dying and the recovering lying side by side. A large pile of unidentified body parts had been tactfully hidden under a blood-spattered tarpaulin. Hawk shook his head numbly.

  “All this, to catch one drug baron and his people. Tomorrow there’ll be a dozen just like him fighting to take his place, and it will all have to be done again.”

  “Stop that,” said Fisher sharply. “None of this is your fault. It’s Morgan’s fault, for having set up a pocket dimension here in the first place. And if we hadn’t acted to stop the super-chacal being distributed, there’s no telling how many thousands might have died across the city.”

  Hawk didn’t answer. He looked slowly about him, taking in the situation. Engineers and sorcerers had got together to stabilize the surrounding buildings, and people were being allowed back into them again. That should please the slum landlords. Even they couldn’t charge rent on a pile of rubble. Firemen were moving among the wreckage, shoring up the few broken walls and inner structures that hadn’t collapsed completely. A few people were still sifting through the rubble, but the general air of urgency was gone. Much of the real work had been done now, and most people had accepted that there probably weren’t going to be any more survivors. The volunteers had gone home, exhausted, and Hawk felt he might as well do the same. There was nothing left for him to do, he was out on his feet, and it had to be well past the end of his double shift. He was just turning to Fisher to tell her it was time to go, when there was the sound of gentle flute music, and the dry, acid voice of the communications sorcerer filled his head.

  Captains Hawk and Fisher, return to Guard Headquarters immediately. This order supersedes all other directives.

  Hawk looked at Fisher. “Typical. Bloody typical. What the hell do they want now?”

  “Beats me,” said Fisher. “Maybe they want to congratulate us for finally nabbing Morgan. There are a lot of people at Headquarters who’ll fight for the chance to ask him some very pointed questions.”

  Hawk sniffed. “With our luck, they’ll probably screw it up in the Courts, and he’ll plea-bargain his way out with a fine and a suspended sentence.”

  “Relax,” said Fisher. “We got him dead to rights this time. What can possibly go wrong?”

  “What do you mean, you let him go?” screamed Hawk. He lunged across the desk at Commander Glen, and Fisher had to use all her strength to hold him back. The Commander pushed his chair back well out of reach, and glared at them both.

  “Control yourself, Captain! That’s an order!”

  “Stuff your order! Do you know how many people died so we could get that bastard?”

  He finally realised he couldn’t break free from Fisher without hurting her, and stopped struggling. He took a deep breath and nodded curtly to Fisher. She let go of him and stepped back a pace, still watching him warily. Hawk fixed Commander Glen with a cold, implacable glare. “Talk to me, Glen. Convince me there’s some reason behind this madness. Or I swear I’ll do something one of us will regret.”

  Commander Glen sniffed, and met Hawk’s gaze unflinchingly. Glen was a tallish, blocky man in his late forties, with a permanent scowl and a military-style haircut that looked as though it had been shaped with a pudding bowl. He had large, bony hands and a mouth like a knife-cut. He’d spent twenty years in the Guard, and amassed a reputation for thief-taking unequalled in the Guard. He’d been day Commander for seven years, and ran his people like his own private army, demanding and getting complete obedience. Ordinarily, he didn’t have to deal much with Hawk and Fisher, which suited all of them.

  Glen pushed his chair forward, and leaned his elbows on the desk. “You want me to explain myself, Captain Hawk? Very well. Thanks to your going after Morgan without waiting for orders or a backup, we now find ourselves faced with major loss of life and destruction of property within the Devil’s Hook. We still don’t know exactly how many died because of your actions, but the current total is four hundred and six. The Hook’s still in shock at the moment, but when they finally realise what’s happened, and that the Guard was responsible, we’re going to be facing riots it’ll take half the Guard to put down! On top of that, there’s the cost of rebuilding and repairs, which is going to run into thousands of ducats. The landlord of the tenement is suing the Guard for that money, and he’ll probably win. And finally, you assaulted a gang leader in front of his own people. Does the word vendetta mean anything to you, Captain Hawk?”

  “I don’t give a damn about any of that,” said Hawk, his voice carefully controlled. “What I did was justified by the circumstances. Morgan was preparing to distribute a drug that would have killed thousands of people and torn Haven apart. Now, explain to me, please, why this man was allowed to go free.”

  “There was no evidence against him,” said Glen flatly.

  “No evidence? What about the super-chacal?” said Fisher. “There were crates of the damn stuff; I helped number and label them.”

  “I never saw any drugs,” said Glen. “Neither has anyone else. And none of the prisoners had any drugs in their possession when they were searched here. None of them had even heard of this super-chacal you keep mentioning. And thanks to your efforts, we don’t even have any proof the pocket dimension ever existed. That leaves only your word and that of your men. And that’s not good enough, against someone like Morgan. He’s a man of standing in the business community, and a pillar of society. He also has a great many friends in high places. People with influence. He hadn’t been in Headquarters ten minutes before pressure began coming down from Above. Without real evidence, we didn’t have a case. So I let him go, along with all of his people. I might add that Morgan is strongly considering suing us for false arrest, and you in particular for assault. I can’t believe you were stupid enough to hit him in front of witnesses.”

  For a while, none of them said anything. It was very quiet in Glen’s office, the only sound the murmur of people going back and forth about their business in the corridors outside.

  “There were crates of the drug,” said Hawk finally. “If they’ve disappeared, it can only mean they vanished on their way here, or they were removed by people working inside Headquarters. Either way, we’re talking about corrupt Guards. I demand an official investigation.”

  “You can demand anything you want; you won’t get it.”

  “I want to talk to my men, the Constables who were with me on the raid.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible. They’ve already been detailed to other duties. Haven’t you got the picture yet, Captain? As far as our superiors are concerned, this whole incident is a major embarrassment, and they want it forgotten as soon as possible. You’ve got some very important people mad at you. At both of you. They’re looking for scapegoats, and you’re tailor-made to fill the bill.”

  “Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” said Hawk, his voice dangerously calm. “Morgan has walked. So have all his people. And several tons of the most dangerous drug Haven has ever seen have gone missing. Have I missed anything?”

  “Yes.” said Glen. “I’ve been instructed to suspend both of you, indefinitely, while a number of official charges against you are investigated. Charges such as reckless endangering of life and property, disobeying orders, assaulting citizens without provocation, brutality, and possible collusion in a vendetta against a faultless pillar of society. That last was Morgan, in case you were wonderi
ng.”

  Hawk grabbed Glen’s desk with both hands and threw it to one side. Papers flew on the air like startled birds as he grabbed two handfuls of Glen’s uniform, picked him up, and slammed him against the nearest wall. He thrust his face close to the Commander’s, until they were staring into each other’s eyes.

  “No one’s suspending me, you son of a bitch! Those drugs are still out there, waiting to be distributed! They have to be found and seized, and I can’t do that with both hands tied behind my back! Do you understand me?”

  Glen looked over Hawk’s shoulder at Fisher, standing by the overturned desk. “Call your partner off, Fisher.”

  She shrugged, and folded her arms. “This time, I think I agree with him. If I were you, I’d agree with him too. Hawk can get very upset when he thinks people are conspiring against him.”

  The door burst open behind them and two Constables rushed in with drawn swords, alarmed at the sounds of violence from the Commander’s office. Fisher drew her sword and quickly moved to stand between them and Hawk and Glen. Hawk slowly put Glen down, but kept a tight hold on him.

  “Tell them to leave, Glen. This is private.”

  “Not anymore,” said Glen. “Not after your foul-up this morning. You can’t fight your way out of this one, Hawk. Not even you and Fisher can take on the entire Guard.”

  Hawk grinned suddenly. “Don’t bet your life on it, Glen. We’ve faced worse odds in our time. Now, tell those overeager friends of yours to leave, and we’ll... discuss the situation.”

  He let go of Glen, and stepped back a pace, his right hand resting casually on the axe at his side. The Commander nodded, and gestured for the two Constables to leave. They looked at each other, shrugged, put away their swords and left, not quite slamming the door behind them. Glen looked at Hawk.

  “You’ve upset them.”

  “Oh dear,” said Hawk. “What a pity. I’m not going on suspension, Glen. I’ve got too much to do.”

  “Right,” said Fisher.

  “Help me pick up my desk,” said Glen, “and we’ll talk about it.”

  Hawk did so, while Fisher leaned against the wall, still holding her sword. Glen picked up his chair, and sat down behind his desk again. He glanced briefly at the papers scattered over the floor, then fixed his attention on Hawk and Fisher.

  “All right, no suspension. But I’ll have to find somewhere to put you so you’re out of sight until things calm down again.”

  “Sounds sensible,” said Fisher. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I can’t have you working together; word would be bound to get out. But as it happens, I’ve got two jobs to fill that should suit the pair of you nicely. As you know, even though officially you shouldn’t, Peace Talks are taking place in Haven at the moment, to try and put an end to the border clashes between the Low Kingdoms and our traditional enemy Outremer, before they get out of hand. The Talks themselves seem to be going well enough, but there are a number of political and business interests on both sides who would like very much to see them fail. Captain David ap Owen is currently in charge of security, but he’s been under a lot of pressure and could use some assistance. Think you could handle that, Captain Fisher?”

  “Sounds fair enough to me,” said Fisher, glancing at Hawk. “What level of security are we talking about?”

  “Absolute minimum. Officially, the Talks aren’t happening here at all. We can’t use troops to guard the delegates; that would be too conspicuous, so there’ll just be yourself, Captain ap Owen, and a dozen Constables in plainclothes. We can’t use any magical protection, either. Same reason; it would just attract attention. So if anything happens, you’re on your own. By the time you could get word to us it would all be over, one way or the other. You’ll have to cope with what you’ve got.”

  “Do the delegates know that?” said Hawk.

  “They suggested it. They’re expendable, and they know it. Well, Captain Fisher, is the assignment to your liking?”

  “Sounds like fun,” said Fisher.

  Glen looked at her for a moment, and then turned to Hawk. “I need someone to find the drugs that went missing. Surprisingly enough. I had worked out for myself how dangerous this super-chacal could be. I want to know how the stuff disappeared, and where it is now. And if you should find a way to incriminate Morgan in the process, I wouldn’t be at all displeased. Find yourself another partner, someone you can trust, but keep your head down, and stay out of the public eye. If anything goes wrong, I’ll swear blind you were acting on your own, and it’s all nothing to do with me. I can’t afford to have Morgan’s friends as enemies. You’ll report directly to me, and no one else. Is that acceptable, Captain Hawk?”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Hawk. “Why didn’t you tell us this earlier?”

  “You didn’t exactly give me a chance. You were more interested in feeling aggrieved and wrecking my office.”

  Fisher smiled. “Next time, talk faster.”

  “Besides,” said Hawk comfortingly, “it wasn’t much of an office anyway.”

  Glen looked at him.

  Hawk was working on his second beer when Captain Bums found him. The Cloudy Morning was a semiofficial off-duty tavern for the Guard, a traditional place for winding down at the end of a long shift. It was fairly basic as taverns go, with no frills and few comforts, but the beer was good and reasonably cheap, and the Guards needed a place where they could talk freely without having to worry about who might be listening. The place was run by an ex-Guard, and the general public were politely encouraged to drink elsewhere, unless they were Guard groupies. There were such, though not many Guards encouraged them. They tended to get obsessive.

  The place was crowded, as usual at the end of a shift, and Captain Burns had to squeeze his way through the press of bodies to reach the bar. Several Guards called out to him, and clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, but he just smiled and kept going. Hawk’s message had sounded fairly urgent. He finally reached the bar, grabbed a seat as it became vacant, and sat down beside Hawk. For a moment Hawk didn’t look up, staring into his beer. Then he took a long swallow, and gestured for the bartender to bring Bums a beer.

  “I’m surprised you’re still on the loose,” said Burns. “The smart money was betting you’d be arrested the moment you set foot in Headquarters. You’ve upset some really powerful people this time, Hawk.”

  “There was some talk of suspension,” said Hawk. “But I talked the Commander out of it.”

  Bums smiled. “Yeah, I heard. Did you really bounce him off the walls of his own office?”

  Hawk looked at him innocently. “Would I do such a thing to a superior officer?”

  Burns nodded to the bartender as his drink arrived, and sipped it appreciatively. “So what’s happening with you and Fisher? All forgiven?”

  “Hardly. We’ve been split up, and told to keep our heads down. But I’ve got a case to work on, and I’m looking for a new partner.”

  For a moment, Burns didn’t get it, and then he looked sharply at Hawk. “You mean me? We hardly know each other.”

  “I’ve seen you fight, and I thought you might like a chance to get back at the bastards who killed your partner. Besides, Morgan isn’t going to stop with Fisher and me. Eventually, he’s going to go after everyone who helped destroy his factory. He takes setbacks personally. If you don’t go after him now, while he’s vulnerable, you can bet that sooner or later he’s going to be coming after you.”

  “You’ve got a point there,” said Burns. “But you’ve got a real nerve, you know that? You got me into this mess, and now I’m supposed to help save your neck.”

  “Are you in or not?”

  “Of course I’m in. I don’t really have any choice, do I? And you’re right about one thing, at least. I’d worked with Doughty on and off for nearly eight years. He was a good partner. Never had much to say for himself, but the best damned swordsman I ever saw. I always felt safer with him to guard my back. I didn’t see who killed him at th
e factory. Everything was happening too fast. But even if I didn’t see whose hand held the sword. I know who was responsible for his death.”

  “Morgan.”

  “Right. I’m with you, Hawk. But it’s not going to be easy. Morgan has influential friends. The kind of people it’s dangerous to cross.”

  “Everyone keeps telling me that,” said Hawk calmly. “It’s not going to stop me. I can be dangerous too, when I put my mind to it. But I shouldn’t worry about his precious friends too much. If we bring Morgan down hard enough, his friends will desert him like rats leaving a sinking ship rather than risk being brought down with him.”

  Burns shook his head amusedly. “You almost make it sound easy. All right, what do we do first?”

  “Well, to begin with we could do with another drink. We’ve got some hard thinking to do.”

  Burns chose his words carefully. “Not for me, thanks. I think better on a clear head.”

  “You’re probably right,” said Hawk. “But it has to be said, there’s something about Haven that drives a man to drink.” He looked at his empty glass, then pushed it regretfully away. “You know, when I first joined the Guard, I really thought I could make a difference. I was going to be a force for justice, and put all the bad guys behind bars, where they belonged. It didn’t work out that way. Crime and corruption are a way of life for most people here. Some days I think the only way to clean up Haven would be to burn it down and start over again.”

  Burns shrugged. “I’ve lived here all my life, but from what I’ve heard, Haven isn’t really that different from any other city. We’re just more honest about it here. You mustn’t let it get to you, Hawk. You can’t expect to undo centuries of corruption overnight. Real change always takes time. In the meantime, we do our best to hold things together, and every now and again we get a chance to put away a piece of slime like Morgan. Settle for that.”